


Let There Be Light

by Fionakevin073



Series: Long Live All the Magic We Made [1]
Category: The Tudors (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 03:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11245287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fionakevin073/pseuds/Fionakevin073
Summary: The first one shot in a series that takes place in  the 'you are my sweetest downfall' universe. These one shots feature moments not included in the final product and moments that take place after the story finished.





	Let There Be Light

**Author's Note:**

> A/N Hello readers! ‘Long live all the magic we made’ is a series of one-shots that takes place within the ‘you are my sweetest downfall’ universe. It will feature stories before Anne’s second reign as Queen (during the time range of when Anne lived at Pembroke) and after she has regained her throne. There will be some one-shots written from Anne’s POV and some from the other characters like Henry, Charles, Elizabeth etc. 'Let There Be Light' is from Anne's POV and is kinda angst ridden so just a heads up. Feel free to send me any prompts or ideas that you guys would like to see in the review section. Thanks for all of your support on you are my sweetest downfall, I am glad all of you enjoyed it. 
> 
> Oh and just a warning, there will be Spoilers here so if you have not yet read—or finished reading— you are my sweetest downfall, I suggest you don’t read these yet bc they will uh spoil the story. Lol just a warning. 
> 
> Thanks again! Please review! 
> 
> Until next time,   
> Fiona Kevin073
> 
> Prompt Summary: The one-year anniversary of Charles death.

**June 1540**

 

Anne had not allowed herself to think of this day. Whenever she thought of it it made her physically ill. She had had nightmares for weeks, unable to get the image of Charles headless body out of her mind. Anne had not allowed herself to cry over him; to grieve for him, at least not openly. Some would interpret that as weakness and while Anne’s enemies had lessened, there were still some there waiting to plot her downfall once more. Anne had been wary—in the first few months after her second coronation— that Henry would be angry with her if she mentioned Charles or seemed saddened by his death. 

 

And so she had set aside her grief, her pain and her hurt for a year. A whole entire year she had not let herself cry or weep or shudder at the mention of Charles. For a total of 365 days she had quelled down her sorrow and bit her tongue. 

 

Now, that Anne had woken on the first anniversary of his death she regretted it because it now slammed into her like waves on a cliff. She lay there on her side staring blankly ahead, feeling numb. She was neither hungry nor thirsty. She had no desire to do anything except to lay there and be left alone. Her hair stuck to the nape of her neck, messy and unkept due to her restless sleep the night before. Even her ladies could sense her distress and she could feel them tiptoe around her bed, as though she were made of glass. 

 

“Your majesty,” Nan murmured softly, from somewhere behind her, “We have brought you some food and water. Are you unwell?” 

 

Anne did not say anything. She did not move. She was suddenly annoyed by the sunlight seeping through her windows; annoyed at her ladies and herself and everyone and everything. 

 

“I wish to be left alone,” she said faintly, “Tell his majesty that I am unwell.” 

 

There was a moment of uneasy silence before Anne whispered, “And cover the light with the curtains.”

 

“Your majesty—“ 

 

“All of you leave,” Anne cut off, “Now.” 

 

Anne buried her head underneath the covers when they left, finally allowing tears to trickle down her face. _Oh Charles I am so sorry. I am so so sorry._ Anne closed her eyes and let herself grieve. 

 

* * *

 

“Anne.” 

 

Anne’s lids fluttered open with great reluctance and she immediately noticed how her face was sticky and wet due to her tears. She had not changed positions from when she had first fallen asleep, except now her room was dark, her handmaidens having obeyed her orders to shut out the light. 

 

“Anne.” 

 

_Henry._

 

Anne closed her eyes tightly, feeling herself grow ill. She did not want to see him, not now. She did not want to find out whether or not he was angry with her for retiring from court for the day—especially this day. But Anne knew that she could not ignore him forever and so she forced herself to turn on her back and prop herself up against the pillows, her throat raw and her eyes blurry. She swiped at her eyes with her hands, trying to clear them of their redness. 

 

“Majesty,” she murmured, keeping her eyes downcast. 

 

She could not bare to look at him. 

 

“Anne,” he said quietly—a hint of awkwardness in his voice, “Your ladies told me that you were unwell and I was concerned.” 

 

It took every inch of her strength to force a half smile onto her face. 

 

“That is very gracious of you your majesty,” she repeated weakly, “I am most unwell.” 

 

Anne heard him let out a breath and tensed when she heard him approach the bed. 

 

“I am sorry.” 

 

Anne lifted her eyes to meet his. They were so blue—so incredibly and wonderfully blue— but they were not the right shade. They were not the eyes she wanted so desperately in that moment. 

 

“I did not know. . “ his voice drifted off, “I did not know that you loved him so.” There was a small hint of jealousy in his tone but for the most part he sounded apologetic, regretful even. Anne smiled ruefully but chose not to say anything and instead waited for him to finish. 

 

“I cancelled all of our meetings and events today, it did not seem right to continue without you,” he added, “And I can see that you want to be left alone, so I will leave you, my precious Queen.” He leaned over and gently kisses her forehead, causing Anne to blink with surprise. He moved away from her and looked as though he wanted to say something but chose not to and instead began to leave the room. 

 

“Henry,” Anne called out, causing him to halt in his footsteps. 

 

Her eyes were wet as she asked unsurely, “Can you—can you stay with me? Can you. . . can you hold me?” 

 

It was the first time she had been the one to ask him to be physically close with her since her coronation almost a year prior. Henry blinked at her with surprise and then finally—surprisingly—he nodded, taking off his shoes before climbing into bed with her. Anne moved so that there was room for him and turned onto her side, with her back to him. He wrapped a strong arm around her waist gently, waiting to see how she would react and when she did not tense or wince at his touch his arm grew more relaxed. 

 

Tears—sudden and blinding tears fell down her face with a sudden quickness, causing a small choked sob to escape her lips. 

 

Henry stayed there through the night and held her, kissing the back of her neck and whispering words of comfort until they both fell asleep. Then the next morning when Anne woke, he was no longer beside her but standing by the window, which was no longer covered by the curtains. She was blinded momentarily by the sun and must have gasped because Henry turned to look at her, a soft smile on his handsome face. 

 

“Let there be light,” he told her, “Let there be light.” 

 

(And every year without fail, until the day he died, Henry stayed with her on that day and let her grieve. 

 

_Let there be light,_ he always said the next day, even if the sun was not shining. And years later, when Henry himself died and Anne was watching his casket be lowered into the ground at his funeral, she whispered: 

 

“Let there be light.” ) 

 

— 

 

End.  

 


End file.
